


Answers, a Requiem from my Youth

by afflatussolace



Series: where you go fate will surely follow [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Gen, MAJOR Patch 5.3 spoilers, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Reminiscing, alisaie and louisoix are mentioned, also spoilers for bahamut raids, in which alphinaud talks about his grandfather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27162601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afflatussolace/pseuds/afflatussolace
Summary: He speaks of his grandfather like he’s singing a requiemReuploaded from myblog. For the ffxivwrite2020 event held on tumblr.
Relationships: Alphinaud Leveilleur/Original Character(s), Alphinaud Leveilleur/Warrior of Light
Series: where you go fate will surely follow [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971088
Kudos: 3





	Answers, a Requiem from my Youth

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #07 - Nonagenarian  
>  _"a person who is between 90 and 99 years old"_

  
  


“Could you tell me about your grandsire again?” Illya’s question comes abruptly.

With mouth agape, Alphinaud stares silently at her at first, unsure of what to say. Illya has asked about his late grandfather on numerous occasions before, but not quite worded in this way. The chilly winds of Mor Dhona prick at his skin and reminds him to speak, though with something of an unimpressive and slightly lackluster response.

“He was a brilliant man.. The greatest mage of his time, and one whose memory I’ve always aspired to succeed and honor.” 

“I meant something other than what the tomes say, Alphinaud. I know much and more about Archon Louisoix, the whole of Eorzea does. I want to know about your grandsire.”

The wildwood is reduced to speechlessness once again, but this time he opts not to rush an answer, and instead ponders over the words of the patiently waiting lalafellin woman sitting beside him.

There’s an intimacy in what she’s asking, an intimacy that he’s shared with only but a select few. And even among those few, he’d always feel a sense of hesitation when asked about the late Louisoix, so much that his normally verbose front would be all but lost for choices of words. 

Several things come to mind, after wiping his memory clean of the esteem and prestige that was Archon Louisoix Leveilleur’s legacy.. even if it was considerably hard to given how much of his own memories of Louisoix has been diluted to what the common folk already knew - what Eorzeans remembered him for. 

Make no mistake, that man was one most deserving of every title of honor every man and woman in this realm would give him, a hero every bit as awe-inspiring as the late Warriors of Light had been. Alphinaud would paint the sky with his name if he could.

But he’d leave home, and left the pair of his grandchildren with little of his gentler self to remember him by. Alisaie had at once resented his absence, and while Alphinaud would certainly be lying if he said he didn’t feel even a hint of upset at his decision, he soon came to understand his grandfather’s decision even at a tender age as he had been - and respected him as a kindly, altruistic man as much as a powerful and wise mage.

He was but a child when he’d last remembered the feeling of Louisoix’s hand resting upon the top of his head and holding him to his chest, but that memory never grows any fainter with time. 

Alphinaud realizes now, as he gazes out longingly into the horizon and caught sight of the broken fragments of the allagan prison he’d once traversed with his Warrior of Light, that that was the memory of Louisoix he’s longed for, and yet failed to preserve. 

He’s amazed once again at Illya’s penchant for understanding the hearts of others, even when he himself had momentarily forgotten what it was he’d wanted to say. Had he not learned from his past mistakes? 

“My grandfather…” Alphinaud’s voice trails off, and upon sensing his hesitation, Illya draws herself closer to his side and slides her small, delicate hands into his own, which he accepts with a gentle squeeze. “He understood me when nobody else did.” 

When he imagines himself reciting words of his childhood to a stranger, he feels his chest tighten.. and when he thinks to even mention such a thing to his own sister, all he could muster the thought of his her death grip against the length of his throat. 

But right next to the Warrior of Light, the savior not just the realm, but of his own being, it felt only right to speak. His words flow effortlessly like honey, weaving an innocent, heartfelt tale recited by a boy about his love for his grandfather. As if he were sharing an album full of his childhood, Alphinaud spoke with no filter, no hesitation. 

She was after all family in but name… for the present, at least.

Sharlayans were never one for festivities, and yet Alphinaud recounted the sickly sweet starlight cookies his grandfather would bring home and handed to his grandchildren in secret. They had been shaped in the shape of snowmen in stars, frosted with peppermint and vanilla icing that he recalls Alisaie demanding more of.

He’d recited his memory of the displeased scowl on his father’s face when Louisoix had taken the twins aside to go on a short trip, and the way his grandfather was often the only smiling face present in the Leveilleur estate. 

And when his hand reached to grab Adelphoi from his back holster, he runs the tip of his fingers down the cover of the grimoire with great melancholy in his navy blue eyes, speaking of the great wisdom his grandsire had imparted on he and his sister, and the wish he’d never get to see realized until they braved the coils of bahamut together - with the Warrior of Light he had then saw as naught but an ally by their side.

The magnificence of his anecdote would be certain to incur the envy of a certain wandering minstrel, for it was a romance that was written from the depths of Alphinaud’s heart, and sung out from a form of love unmatched in purity and intent.

And Illya finds herself shutting her eyes as he listens to his tales, conjuring up the image of a picturesque family portrait, of the adorably naive boy and girls Alphinaud and Alisaie must have once been as they sat in the lap of their grandsire, intent and silent as they listened to his own tales of fancy.

“He’d be celebrating his 90th nameday were he here.. and I’m all but certain father would still insist on having the same loaf be served for our celebratory dessert.” 

Illya’s eyes open once more to glance up at him, and her heart stops as she sees his smile - captivating, glowing and every bit as innocent as the boy from her imaginations.


End file.
